Heroes And Demons
by ceilidh65
Summary: A 'post-ep' story, set after Bloodbath. How could something so seemingly harmless leave McGee in so much trouble? As always, I hope you enjoy - please R&R if you do!
1. Chapter 1 Many Questions Too Few Answers

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Hello again, and welcome to my latest story!

Now, as my regular reviewers know, I love the sadly undershown relationship between McGee and Gibbs. There's so much potential there, but there are so few scenes between them.

In my previous stories, it's been written - I hope! - with that unique, NCIS humour. But ever since 'Bloodbath' from season three, I've always felt that, when Gibbs forced Tim to kneel at his desk, our poor probie was treated really unfairly. After all, it was Abby who insisted she wanted her toothbrush, but it was Tim who got punished for what happened afterwards.

We know that Tim was bullied, too, although that's only been mentioned, briefly, in Deception. We've never been told in the series since then how severe that bullying was. So with some help from my angst-loving plot bunny, that scene in Bloodbath, and my sick imagination, I've written this rather more serious 'post episode' story.

It's set a couple of days after the events in Bloodbath, and - well, let's just say that Tim McGee isn't his usual. cheerfully happy self.

Spoilers for Bloodbath, of course, but references to Probie and Witness, too - well, I _did_ say this would be angsty!

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter One - Too Many Questions, Too Few Answers

How could something so small, so harmlessly familiar, have caused him so much trouble? So much aggravation? Frustration? So much physical, _and_ mental, pain?

Still staring at the tiny, innocuous object that had caused him so much grief, Tim McGee then sighed – shoving Abby's toothbrush back into his pocket, so that it was safely out of his sight.

Out of sight was one thing. Pushing the turmoil it had caused him out of his mind was quite another.

Even now, two hours after Gibbs had so kindly 'allowed' him to go home, he was still sitting here – occupying this solitary bench he'd found on the river-front where he could sit, in undisturbed peace, and just quietly think.

He'd been doing that a lot recently. In fact, Tim now tiredly noted, he'd been doing it a hell of a lot. Ever since John Benedict had died in that alleyway, possibly because of _his_ actions, but so frustratingly, possibly _not_ – yes, as its aftermath continued to haunt him, he'd spent more and more time out here, just… thinking.

Ever the pedantic stickler for accuracy, Tim sighed again, a humourless smile tugging at his mouth. No, he wasn't just _thinking_, he was asking himself questions. The _same_ questions, over and over.

_Had_ he shot John Benedict, and killed him? Was he equally to blame for Erin Kendall's death? If he was such a genius, with two damn degrees to prove it, why the hell did he keep screwing up?

And, of course, this current, bitter question that he'd been silently asking himself for the last two days.

In his frequently endangered lifetime, would Gibbs _ever_ respect him, or just simply _trust_ him?

After today, and the two days that had passed so tensely before it – hell, he was more likely to see that proverbial UFO landing on the White House lawn.

And I make more than enough of my own screw-ups, he sourly reflected, without taking the blame for other people's.

That had hurt him the most. That, and his complete inability to defend himself against his furious boss. Even if he'd been able to make his mouth coherently work through that damn unshakeable stammer – no, Tim sadly realized, Gibbs would _still_ have inflicted the punishment which had hurt him so deeply.

He'd done nothing to deserve it, either. The more he thought about it, the more angry and bitter he felt.

However roughly he'd dragged her out of her lab - damn it, he could have died that day. He'd risked _his_ life, to save hers.

And his reward for saving her? A pat on the back from a proudly grateful boss? A plain, simple '_thank-you_, _Timmy_' from the woman he loved?

No, despite protests that had turned to whispered pleading, he'd been forced to kneel at his desk instead. For several, increasingly painful hours, he'd taken the blame for something that hadn't been his fault.

Yeah, _some_ gratitude.

It hadn't been the humiliation he'd felt, though, or his discomfort, that had hurt him so deeply. No, it was this simple knowledge that he'd done nothing wrong, yet Gibbs had still punished him.

If not for that stupid damn toothbrush, Mikel would never tricked his way into his apartment. His beloved Remington would still be in one piece. And Gibbs wouldn't have punished him, so harshly, for Abby's mistake.

But then, he'd _always_ take Abby's side. He would always take _her_ word, miles above everyone' else's. Whatever she did, however many mistakes she made… yeah, his favourite child could do no wrong.

And knowing how much he loved her, knowing how much he wished that they were still together – no, that was an especially painful, bitter complication that Tim McGee just couldn't face right now.

Besides, something far deeper than Abby's rejection of their relationship was hurting him more.

Hunkering deeper into his coat, for both warmth and comfort, he then sighed again, swallowing hard – trying, yet again, to fight back memories that had turned three days of silent misery into an increasingly crippling hell.

He needed sleep, badly. But for the third night running, Tim knew the memories which kept waking him from it, shaking and soaked with sweat, wouldn't let him find it. So instead, wrapping his arms more protectively around him, he stared out across the water. For once, its gently hypnotic movement just wasn't calming his mind.

If only he knew. If this brash, brilliant man that he respected so much just _knew_ what he'd done. But he never would. Gibbs would never know, _could_ never know, the consequences of his actions

With the only control he still had over those consequences, Tim McGee now made himself that promise. He'd borne his childhood shame in secret. He'd lived with it, just as silently, for the last twenty years. So yes, he'd continue to live with that shame on his own, just as he'd done throughout his life.

He'd survived far worse than today's humiliation, everything else he had to endure in this job, but – no, as Tim stared miserably out over DC's nightlit skyline, a familiar question returned to haunt him.

'_I could have worked at the Pentagon_, _or even MIT_, _and -_ _damn it_, _what the hell am I doing here_?'

Perhaps thankfully unseen, someone else was asking himself a worriedly similar thing.

He'd sent the boy home hours ago, and… Jethro Gibbs frowned now, as he continued to watch him.

How did Tim McGee know about his secret sanctuary? More to the point, why was he there?


	2. Chapter 2 Cause For Concern

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: First of all, thanks so much for these positive reviews - that's always encouraging!

This was originally going to be a pretty short, three or four chapter story. But I'm up to chapter seven already, and my famously multiplying plot-bunnies aren't finished yet! So let's just start with a ballpark figure of seven or eight, and we'll see how we go from there.

Now, at the end of chapter one, we left poor Timothy asking himself a lot of difficult questions. Now it's Gibbs' turn to try to find some answers, as he starts to realize that Tim's in trouble, and _he_ has something to do with it. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Two - Cause For Concern

If he'd come out here to sulk over his punishment… well, Gibbs couldn't fault his choice of location. Floodlit in all its beauty, DC's skyline was giving Tim McGee, and himself, a glorious view tonight.

Except his young agent wasn't enjoying that view. His buzzcutted head was too deeply bowed for that. Whatever was troubling him… no, not even this incredible view was going to help him resolve it.

Still watching him, Gibbs felt his frown deepen. He already knew that _something_ was wrong - and already suspected that _he_ had something to do with it.

Abby's stalker may have been safely in custody now, but during the last three days, Tim McGee had become increasingly, and worryingly subdued. He'd followed orders, of course, with softly meek agreement, but – no, he'd still been too damn quiet.

When Abby had been kidnapped, he'd gone onto natural auto-pilot to help find her. Gibbs had expected nothing more, and nothing less, from him then. But when they'd returned with her, thankfully safe, his reaction had been one of unsettling contrast.

When they'd emerged, laughing and joking, into the bullpen, McGee had simply stood quietly at his desk – watching her hug her way around Gibbs, then Tony, then Ducky and Ziva with stony-faced disinterest. And when she'd finally found her way to him, there'd been none of the usual warmth between them. Instead, he'd stood stiffly against her. And, for once, he'd been the first to then push her away.

If she'd felt, or noticed, such unMcGee-ish coldness, she'd been too ecstatic to say anything about it.

Gibbs had noticed it, though, and had been as paternally amused by it as he'd been quietly annoyed. Ahead of his time, in so many traits and ways, Tim McGee was, apparently, a late developer in others. Almost thirty years later than everyone else his age, he was seemingly going through the dreaded 'terrible-twos'

Gibbs knew, though, that there was far more to this uncharacteristic, sullen sulkiness than that. Whatever was causing this unnerving withdrawal was much more serious than being last in Abby's hugging-order. And you didn't need to be an MIT graduate, with two degrees and an IQ in triple figures, to work out what it was.

Being forced to kneel, for hours on end, might have taught you to follow orders in the Marines. But using that same, publicly humiliating punishment on a shy, sensitive, civilian genius had clearly backfired.

He'd accepted it three days ago. Then again, he'd been too shocked, too inexplicably horrified, to offer more than furiously ignored stutters of protest.

Yesterday, though, after a clearly sleepless and frettish night, it had been a strikingly different story. That's when Gibbs' alarm bells had started ringing.

Today, he'd been paler and quieter still, ignoring all of DiNozzo's attempts to razz him out of it – keeping eye-contact with those around him, and with Gibbs especially, to an absolute minimum.

So yes, Tim McGee was angry. In fact, he was spitting-mad furious. The expression on his face as he'd packed up to go home had told Gibbs that.

Always so cheerful, so warm and friendly, that face had held a shadow of deepening, simmering fury – prompting Gibbs' quiet, dryly caustic question as he'd strode past his desk towards the elevator.

"You're that mad at me, McGee, that you can't even _talk_ now?"

Completely ignoring him, McGee had paused, hesitating for a moment, then turned back to face him – his voice, when he finally spoke, holding a depth of bitterness that Gibbs had never heard in it before.

"For what I've been through, for everything that's been done to me already," he'd said at last – speaking as quietly as ever, yet not even trying to keep the bitterness out of his next, damning words.

"When it comes to humiliating me, making me feel completely worthless, to try to break me… yeah, against everything I've been through in my life already, Gibbs, you're an amateur-"

Thrown for a complete loop, Gibbs had watched him move away in puzzled, astonished silence. By the time he'd called out after him, those elevator doors had been slapped shut by a furious hand.

There'd been no point in following him then. He'd been too unapproachable, too angry, to listen. And Gibbs had needed time himself to sit back, and let his own dangerously high temper defuse.

Instead, waiting for a sensibly calming forty minutes, he'd then dialled Tim's home number – not surprised, just gently concerned, when, twice in succession, a cheery voicemail answered him.

"_Hi, you've reached Tim McGee. I'm afraid I'm not in right now, so if you can leave your message after the beep, which should be coming up any time... beeeeeep_..."

Half-way through his third attempt, Gibbs had realized there'd be no point in completing it. If Tim McGee was still so spitting-mad angry, then he wouldn't be answering the phone to _anyone_ tonight.

So he'd left the bullpen to find some fresh air, and even fresher coffee, hoping both would clear his head enough to think.

McGee's outburst had worried him as much as it had surprised him. What the hell had triggered it? What had made his shy, sweet natured rookie turn on him, with such uncharacteristic anger?

Gibbs already knew the answer to that first question – it had been that punishment he'd meted out. Four long and painful hours of kneeling on rock hard floor had clearly left more of a mark on Tim McGee than just his kneecaps.

Gibbs also knew he'd been bullied at school, and – damn it, was _that_ how Tim McGee saw him now? Something that silently shamed and appalled him - was he really a _bully_? Was that why he'd stared at him, with such sadly bitter eyes, and called him an amateur?

He'd still been struggling to answer that question as he'd approached his 'quiet-spot' beside the river – only to find, to his startled surprise, that Tim McGee, in equally deep thought, was already there.

Now, still covertly watching him, Gibbs felt fresh concern clash with the relief of seeing that he was safe. One of his agents, his surrogate son, was clearly in trouble – and Gibbs now realized he was partly to blame.

Now its apparent cause, ie _him_, had to find out what was wrong, and somehow bring him out of it.


	3. Chapter 3 From Hell Into Hope

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: I know I must sound like a broken record here, but thanks so much for the reviews - they've all been much appreciated :o)

I see from several of them that I'm not the only one who thought Gibbs' treatment of Tim in this episode was unfair. I hope the rest of this story can do those reviews justice. I've just finished the chapter where McGee tells Gibbs what was done to him, and - ooooh, you Timmy-whumpers are in for a treat! ;o)

More immediately, though, Gibbs is about to make two completely differing discoveries, and - well, let's just say that the second one is much less enjoyable for him than the first.

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Three - From Hell Into Hope

The United Nations had its teams of diplomats to resolve the world's alarmingly multiplying troubles. In his modest, tiny corner of that world, Gibbs had a breathtaking view, and thankfully easy access to coffee.

Now, enjoying the pleasures of both as he walked back to the river, Gibbs checked through his change. Six dollars twenty. Yeah, that should cover a few more bridge-building refills of Joey's finest java.

Well, he _hoped_ it would be enough – just as he hoped that Tim McGee still trusted him enough to talk. Still, he dryly told himself, he'd cross that first of many, dangerously shaky bridges when he came to it.

For now, he had fresh coffee in his hand, and the readiness to listen in his mind. And if he had to break one of his own rules - hell, yes, he'd say sorry too.

As he approached that special spot again, Gibbs smiled in silent relief. Thank God, he was still there - that buzzcutted head unmistakeable in the moonlight that now softly fell onto it.

Hopefully, the hours that had passed since his furious outburst had allowed his young agent to now –

– curl himself into a snugly huddled ball on his bench, and drift into an albeit fitful, restless sleep.

Caught between surprise, concern, and amusement, Gibbs allowed himself a succession of all three – that final option tugging even more at his mouth as he squatted, _very_ quietly, at Tim's side.

With that chubby-cherub face, of course, he'd always look much younger than he actually was. And right now, snuggled deep into his duffle-coat, Tim McGee had de-aged to innocent childhood. All he needed was a teddy-bear, tucked in beside him, and this charming scene would be complete.

Still watching him, Gibbs let his smile grow into an outright grin, then on into silent laughter. Thank God he'd found him out here, instead of Tony, because if DiNozzo had found him like this – well, life for his long suffering probie would have become even more unbearable than it was already.

Then again, life in Tim McGee's dreaming world wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs for him either – Gibbs' own amusement disappearing too now, as the peaceful face beside him suddenly changed.

That face which was so expressive, so easy to read was, if anything, even more so in sleep. And as Gibbs watched, in growing concern, that face was telling him an increasingly worrying story.

The curiosity which had been on it, just moments before, had now turned into a frightened wince. Flinching slightly, Tim then stirred in his sleep, trying to escape from his subconscious tormentors.

Those tormentors clearly outnumbered him, though, as he started to struggle, desperately, against them. And when a muffled sob joined a deepening, fearful wince, Gibbs knew what was coming next – those hours he'd spent soothing away Kelly's nightmares poignantly reminding him of what he'd lost.

He'd become sadly good at it, too. To his dismay, Gibbs realized he needed that expertise again now. He just hoped he'd be strong enough to safely restrain the body that now flew into his waiting arms. Catching a tiny five year old was one thing. Catching a full grown, frantically struggling adult was quite another.

If only Tim McGee had been as tall and strong then, Gibbs sadly reflected, as he'd grown to be now. Maybe then he'd have been able to stop the attack that he was so pitifully re-living in his mind – another terrified yelp escaping him now, as Gibbs tried, carefully gently, to bring him back to reality.

"Whoa, Tim, easy. Easy now, it's okay, you're having a nightmare. Easy now, it's alright, you're safe now. I'm not gonna hurt you-"

He might have been safely alright in the real world – but in Tim McGee's mind, he clearly wasn't. Still trapped by the terrors of both his mind and its memories, he kept struggling to escape them – giving Gibbs no choice now but to tighten his grip as he tried, more firmly, to bring him around.

"Tim? _Tim_! C'mon, calm down, you're having a nightmare. Tim, c'mon, wake up now. Wake up, Tim. Wake up-"

Easier said than done, of course – especially when you were as irrationally terrified as this. Gradually, though, with painful slowness, the sobs and struggles subsided, then stopped completely.

With a reassuring return of that famous McGee bloody-mindedness, Tim then pushed himself away – blinking, in startled surprise, as Jay Clark's brutal sneer turned into a much older, anxious, yet gently calming face. And when those terrfied eyes cleared and widened, in stunned recognition, Gibbs knew he was finally, thankfully, back.

He was still shaken, though. That nightmare, and its physical effects, had taken one hell of a toll. Even within the thickness of his coat, the kid was still shaking like a leaf, clearly in shock. Assuming he didn't spill it, or throw it back at his face, Gibbs knew there was only one cure for that.

"Here, get this down you-" he said at last, pressing one of the coffees he'd bought into Tim's hand – hoping the disappointment he'd felt at the wary glare that answered him hadn't been _too_ obvious. To Tim McGee's troubled, still tiredly haunted eyes, it could so easily be taken as disapproval.

After what had happened earlier, trust between them was at an all time, dangerously fragile low. Little wonder, then, that McGee was staring down at that coffee as if it were filled with arsenic.

Swallowing down his frustration, Gibbs then sighed. If the kid still needed some more gentle convincing to trust him, then… well, so be it.

"Look, Tim, I'm just trying to help," he continued, keeping his next words equally gentle. "If I'm responsible for whatever's caused this, then I'm sorry. Let me try to put it right, okay?"

Five seconds passed. Ten. And still Tim McGee stared back at him, in frustratingly unreadable silence. Finally, though, the wariness gave way to the beginnings of a tired, but still blessedly welcome smile of concession.

It was just a tug at the side of his mouth, in fact - but as he gratefully returned it, Gibbs didn't mind. Within that tentative smile, he had his breakthrough. Against all justifiable odds, those crucial bonds of faith and belief between them were still there. For now, at least, he'd gladly settle for that.


	4. Chapter 4 Plan A, Plan B, Plan C

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: For Eternal Optimist and Hiyami - I know you kindly PM'd me about Jay Clark, and how he's involved in this story. I hope you received my replies. In case you didn't, I thought I'd better explain here for you, and everyone else, who he is.

He's an original character, and he's the bully who has put poor Tim through a _very_ nasty experience. I've covered that more fully in chapter six - and as I've mentioned already, there's whumpage involved!

Sorry to keep you in suspense, but hopefully you won't have _too_ long to wait until it's posted :o)

First, though, Gibbs has to try and get Tim talking, and - well, let's just say he's finding it harder than you might think...

Thanks again for all your reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Four - Plan A, Plan B, Plan C

Silence had set back in between them. All things considered, though – well, Gibbs wasn't surprised. After that nightmare, it was going to take time for Tim McGee to find the courage to talk about it. And unlike its fury-fuelled predecessor, _this_ silence he'd fallen into was one of crucial, healing peace.

So yes, despite the cold around them, Gibbs made no attempt to disturb that healing, or that silence – the choked whisper that finally broke it confirming what that famous gut instinct had already told him.

Three days ago, he'd made a serious mistake - and Tim McGee had paid a traumatic price because of it.

"Th-That – that punishment, boss… m-making me kneel at my desk, it's - it's just brought it all back-"

Giving himself one almighty mental head-slap as he felt Tim flinch against him, Gibbs just nodded – switching from the toughnut Marine he'd once been, to the friend-cum-father that he had to be now.

"Take your time, Tim. There's no rush, you can tell me about it when you're ready," he said at last, squeezing Tim's shoulder, and breathing a sigh of pure relief when his hand was allowed to stay there. It was a precious sign of intact trust - and he was determined to build upon it.

"I keep forgetting I'm not in the Marines any more, Tim, and _you_ were never in the Corps in the first place. You've never experienced its discipline, so it was hardly fair to put you through one of its punishments. And if I'd known what it would lead to for you, Tim… well, I'd never have forced you to do it-"

It had been quite a speech, a genuine apology – and he'd meant each and every heartfelt word of it.

As he'd hoped, Tim McGee had listened to it in sometimes startled, but always complete, attention. His reaction, though, when it finally came – well, it certainly wasn't what Gibbs had expected.

"You shouldn't have done it, _period_, boss, because I didn't do _anything_ wrong!" he said at last – his voice quiet, as it always was, but still holding a frustrated anger that rose through his next words.

"Yes, I _was_ responsible for Abby's safety. I left her alone, and _that_ let Mikel get to her, but if-"

As suddenly as his voice had risen, though, so it fell away, just as quickly, into hard-breathing silence. Anger had crashed, as it so often did, against a double-whammy of hopeless love, and helpless loyalty.

There'd only be one winner in that contest – and right now, he just didn't have the strength to challenge it. Instead, pointedly ignoring the prompting eyes beside him, he huddled himself deeper into his coat – two tightly crossed arms another, unmistakeable sign that his defences were back up, and higher than ever.

As that silence between them stretched on, so Gibbs felt a new, if rueful, respect for his young agent. When it came to stubbornness – hell, this kid could put a pack of the toughest, orniest mules to shame. You could lead a mule-McGee to the nicest waterhole for miles, it seemed – but that _didn't_ mean you could get him to drink from it.

Luckily for him, if maybe not for McGee, bloody-mindedness ran pretty deep in the Gibbs family too. And if there was one thing _this_ Gibbs hated, aside from undrinkable coffee, it was an unsolved mystery.

How to make Tim McGee solve it for him, though? Yes, well – that was another matter entirely. When you saw this degree of determination on his face, you knew you had a real fight on your hands. Once Tim McGee made up his mind, little short of cuffing him to a rocket would make him change it.

Interrogation was out, of course. However tired he was, this kid was still _way_ too smart to fall for that. He'd watched his boss in action too many times to fall for any of those breakdown tricks himself.

Plan A, Mr Angry, was _definitely_ out, too. God knew, the kid could spot that bad-ass routine in his sleep - and he was in no fit state to face it anyway.

So with that option lost - well, maybe Plan B, Mr Harmlessly Casual, would have more luck in opening him up.

"_If, _Tim?" he said at last, dryly thinking that you couldn't get more harmless, or casual, than that – knowing, from a tight-lipped head shake, that he might just have to bring Mr Angry into this after all.

"Look, Tim, whatever this problem is, I can't help you with it if you won't tell me what it is!"

As two startled green eyes stared back at him, Gibbs allowed himself a smile of satisfied victory. Love him or hate him – yeah, you could always count on Mr Angry to succeed where all others failed.

"What's the point, boss? I can't do anything to change it, so I sure as hell can't resolve it-"

Then again, Gibbs ruefully corrected himself, maybe not.

Any amusement he may have felt, though, quickly vanished when he heard the strain in Tim's voice.

"I'll _never_ solve this problem, boss. It's something I _can_'_t_ change, because _you_'_ll_ never accept it-"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to stare, as he watched the anger in Tim's eyes give way to tired resignation. He wasn't used to seeing defeat in those eyes, or that equally expressive face – and he _didn_'_t_ like it.

He didn't like the cold either, and he _certainly_ didn't like freezing his butt on this bench, and – well, even if he couldn't make Tim McGee talk, at least he could find a warmer place to keep trying.

"C'mon, Tim, let's talk the rest of this through inside. At least we'll be warm there-" he said at last – silently thanking every god that he knew when, if still so wearily, Tim sighed and nodded agreement to what Gibbs quietly hoped would be a successful Plan C.

Resting a fatherly hand on Tim's shoulder as they rose to their feet, Gibbs felt a hopeful smile widen. It was still a long way to that proverbial waterhole - but at least they were moving now, _together_, towards it.


	5. Chapter 5 The Truth Hurts

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: I'm so glad you're enjoying this story - thanks for all your comments and encouragement for it!

Now, I know we've seen the conference room, and a coffee lounge in the series, but - well, I wanted somewhere a bit more comfortable for Tim to reveal what's caused his nightmare. And since I'm sure our favourite team must have a place where they can just kick back and relax, I've given them a general 'quiet-room' for this chapter, and for a couple more to follow. I just thought Tim would want some comfortable privacy for what he and Gibbs are going to talk about.

More of that in the next chapter. For now, though, Tim and Gibbs have some _serious_ talking to do.

Enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Five - The Truth Hurts

Aaaah, blissful warmth. Hot coffee, somewhere soft and comfy to sit, and a thankfully thawing butt. Rarely had the comforts of their newly acquired quiet room been so welcome, or its coffee tasted so good.

Leaning back into his side of a blessedly deep couch, Gibbs allowed himself a happy smile. Yeah, this was _much_ better. Solving problems was much easier when you were warm enough, and your brain soaked in enough caffeine, to think. And right now, between two vastly different, yet so similar minds, there was a _lot_ of thinking going on.

Not much talking, though, but – well, Gibbs knew he couldn't do much, if anything, to change that. After what he'd just been through – no, he couldn't expect Tim McGee to start talking again. Not yet.

And even in that silence, just from Tim's body language, he was still learning a surprising amount. He was more relaxed for a start, those defensively crossed arms resting, more naturally, in his lap. Much, if not all, of his earlier anger had dissipated too now, into a more reassuring, familiar calm.

Within the exhaustion that had taken its place, Gibbs could read a silent conflict of loyalties – as if the boy had some awful choice that he had to make, that he just couldn't bring himself to do.

From his nightmare, perhaps? That would certainly be the most obvious cause, and yet – no. No, there was more to it, far more to all this, than the re-living of a traumatic childhood memory – a deep sigh, and a quiet but thankfully calm voice giving Gibbs his first clue over its real, true cause.

"If you'd just _listened _to me, boss. If you'd just let me explain, then _none_ of this would have happened-"

Okay, it wasn't the clearest clue he'd ever heard in his time, but – well, he _was_ a federal investigator. Even if it took them the rest of the night to piece those clues together, to clear the air between them – yes, if it meant keeping this brilliant genius on his team, Gibbs would take all the time they needed.

"Yeah, that was a mistake, Tim. Yes, I _should_ have listened to you," he agreed just as quietly – meeting, and holding, the tired eyes beside him so that they'd see the pure sincerity in his own.

"I don't like making mistakes, Tim, _especially_ ones that affect my team. So I'm listening _now-_"

A startled blink was a promising sign of progress. So was the shy smile that eventually followed. Then, to Gibbs' puzzled surprise, Tim reached into his coat, and drew out a narrow, plastic cylinder.

"Abby's toothbrush," he said at last, blushing slightly as Gibbs' eyebrows rose high into his hair.

Leaving _that_ conversation for a more appropriate time, Tim then paused to re-gather his thoughts – his next words full of regret for what had happened next, and for everything that had happened since.

"She, um… she - she left it in the car, on that night, and she… well, kept insisting that she _had_ to have it-"

"Yeah, I can imagine," Gibbs cut in softly, smiling to himself at the mental image in his mind.

Abby, in full and irresistible flow, turning her hopelessly protesting Timmy into tongue-tied mush. Having experienced it himself, more than he'd publicly admit – yeah, this poor lovestruck kid had his sympathy.

More seriously than that, though, Tim McGee now had the greater benefit of his realization – that famous gut instinct putting two and together, long before a soft but emphatic voice did it for him.

"Yeah, boss, I agreed. Against all my instincts, _and_ my better judgement, I agreed to go get it for her. I told her to lock the door behind me, and to _keep_ it locked, not to answer it to _anyone_, until I got back.

When I went back for my keys, she opened it, without a second thought, and… well, I yelled at her. I told her _again_, boss, again and again, _not_ to answer the door without checking if it was me first-"

"But she did… and that's how Mikel got to her," Gibbs concluded, his voice equally quiet. As the full extent of his misjudgement and misassumption began to sink in, he even winced, hoping the words that broke his most strictly enforced rule would at least help to repair the damage.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I – I had no idea, I just assumed-"

"…that _I_'_d_ screwed up, boss, and forgotten _everything_ you've taught me-" Tim finished for him – his eyes silently conveying the rest of the disappointment, and frustration, that he couldn't say out loud.

Knowing, from his reaction, that Gibbs had read that message, loud and clear, Tim then sighed – as anxious as Gibbs was that two hours of talking, and painstaking work, shouldn't be wasted now.

When he spoke again, his voice was still quiet - but it still held a crucial note of reconciliation between them.

"You assumed I'd screwed up, boss, just as _I_ assumed that Abby would do the right thing, and…"

"…tell me herself who _really_ screwed up that night," Gibbs cut in, offering Tim a rueful smile. "Hell, Tim, no wonder you're so pissed at me. If I'd had to kneel on our parade ground, like I made you do… yeah, I'd be kinda pissed too, _especially_ if I'd had to do it because of someone else's screw up-"

That may have won him a smile – but to Gibbs' dismay, that smile held none of its usual humour. Instead, Tim McGee's bitter-cracked voice brought him back to earth again, with an resounding, earth-shattering thud.

"Try being forced to kneel in maggot-infested horse crap, boss. That would get you _really_ pissed-"


	6. Chapter 6 Innocence Lost

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Okay, after the teaser at the end of that last chapter, here's where we finally find out what's caused Tim's nightmare. I hope it isn't _too_ graphic, but - well, if you're eating while you read this, you might want to stop before you reach the end.

Tim also reveals, in season four's Friends And Lovers, that he has a deep loathing of maggots, which hasn't yet been explained in the series. If just in the world of fanfic, here's my idea on what might have caused it.

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Six - Innocence Lost

Summer camp. Weeks of sun, fun, and kickback freedom that every school-kid, _and_ their parents, wished would never end.

But for Tim McGee, it had been an experience that, even now, had left him deeply traumatized – the choked quietness of his voice speaking volumes for the terror he'd felt then, and still felt now.

"I must have been the only eight year old kid who ever begged his parents _not_ to send him to camp. I – I knew Jay Clark and his gang would be there too, and they were already bullying me in class. Nothing serious, just the usual 'give-me-your-dinner-money, you-little-freak, or-else' type stuff, but… well, I'd already seen the other kids he'd picked on, boss, and I – I knew what else he was capable of.

Th-There was nothing the school could do, either, legally, to - to stop him from going, but I just… well, with so many counsellors and support staff there, I just thought they'd be able to protect me-"

As he fell into another, hard-breathing silence, Gibbs knew he didn't need to ask the obvious question. That protection, he angrily deduced, either hadn't been enough, or it just hadn't been there at all.

When Tim finally continued, Gibbs realized, in a father's helpless fury, that it had been the latter.

"We, uh… we - we had two counsellors assigned to us. Mack and Hayley, earning their college fund, and… well, let's just say their minds, at that age, weren't exactly on the job of taking care of us-"

A smile, then – a bitter, humourless reflection on why, and how, his supposed protectors had failed him so badly.

"Every chance they could get, they'd take us for… well, let's just say _real_ long walks in the woods. Then they'd disappear, for their own _encounter_ with nature, leaving us t-to fend for ourselves-"

Another pause, _more_ silence, to regain his composure, to brace himself for what was coming next.

"The camp was in woodland, ne-near this ranch, where we could go trekking, if – if we wanted to. It had this huge stable block, with a real friendly little pony, Smoky, that we all loved to ride, and… well, that – that's where it happened, boss. That's where Jay Clark and his cronies finally got to me-"

Watching him, Gibbs felt the frustration of yet another delay crash against a rising, helpless fury.

If this had been an interrogation, with some smart-ass holding back on him, deliberately stalling – well, Gibbs knew he'd have quietly 'persuaded' that smart-ass to start talking _real_ smart, _real _fast.

Except this wasn't an interrogation that he was dealing with, and this _wasn_'_t_ a tough-nut suspect. It was a traumatized victim. A member of _his_ team. _His_ surrogate son, re-living a horrific memory.

So yes, he felt frustrated – but he felt furious too, at himself, for the part he'd played in causing it. There was nothing he could do to change that, of course – but he could at least atone for it now.

The hand which had rested throughout on Tim McGee's shoulder now squeezed it in sympathy, then slid onto his back, rubbing it in slow, soothing circles – a voice that just as gentle offering the same encouragement, trying to give him strength to continue.

"It's okay, Tim, you're doing fine. Just take your time, there's no rush… it's okay, you're doing really well. It's okay, Tim, take your time. Tell me what happened-"

There'd been many times, where he now wished he'd shown it, when he'd been proud of Tim McGee. But rarely, if ever, had Gibbs been so proud of him now as he smiled, if still so faintly, back at him.

When this was over, he'd make damn sure he'd tell him that, but – well, they had to get there first.

Judging by the flat-toned detachment in Tim McGee's voice, its most horrific part had finally come.

"We'd just gotten back from our ride, and taken our ponies back to their stalls to scrub them down. Mack and Hayley told us they had to go check the hayloft, ju-just to make sure there was enough hay-"

Smiling too, mirroring Gibbs' sceptical '_yeah_, _right_' expression, that smile then inevitably vanished – a voice that was already barely audible dropping even further now, into a helplessly bitter whisper.

"I'd just finished scrubbing Smoky down when Jay turned up to collect that week's dinner money.

It - It was my mom's birthday the following month, and I was saving like crazy to buy her present, but… well, that didn't matter to Jay, _he_ wanted that week's money. He was gonna get it, boss, one way or another… and – and when I told him no, then… well, he'd had years of practice. He - He knew exactly where, _and_ how, to hit me so that no-one could see-"

Gibbs' smile had vanished too now, as the true extent of Tim McGee's childhood ordeal was revealed. Having the crap whacked out of you by the school bully was bad enough, but – no, worse was to come.

For Tim McGee, crap of an all too real kind had made this brutal violation of his trust and innocence horrifically complete.

"Afterwards, he – he dragged me outside, where the other ponies were doing… well, what ponies do. You - You really had to watch where you were stepping, boss, th-there were piles of the stuff, everywhere, and… well, being the generous kid he was, he found this big maggotty pile, just the right size, just for me-"

Tim's shoulders were shaking now, almost as violently as the voice that now cracked with all the terror, and fury, of what had been done to him.

"He - He forced me to kneel, right in its centre. His cronies held me down, I – I could hear him laughing. I - I could hear _all_ of them laughing as he hit me again, made me scream… forced my mouth open-"

Another pause, the longest yet – finally broken by a soft, choked, helplessly broken whisper.

"My – My mouth was open, boss. I – I tried, so hard, to get away, b-but I just couldn't, I just couldn't close it… th-then he… he found the maggots-"


	7. Chapter 7 Trust Restored

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Apologies, first of all, to anyone who needed a sickbag after that last chapter. I know I had a few queasy moments while writing it!

On a lighter note, I've sneaked in a little reference to the _real _reason that Sean Murray's infamous season three buzzcut disappeared. I'm sure everyone who has the American DVD set for season four, and have heard the commentary for Cover Story, will know what I mean ;o)

For those who don't have the set, Pauley Perrette mentions that Sean's mother didn't like his hair so short, and so McGee's had a slightly longer style from season four onwards. I must admit, McGee's hair in season two is my favourite, but season four's runs a close second!!

Okay, back to the story. So Tim has finally revealed what happened to him - how is Gibbs going to react?

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Seven - Trust Restored

If school-bullying could be covered by the UN's frustratingly limited powers to protect humanity – hell, what Tim McGee had just revealed would have had every one of its delegates united in outrage.

Even now, several minutes since he'd stopped speaking, Gibbs couldn't believe what he'd just heard. This hadn't just been the usual, harmless school-yard teasing. This had been all-out, brutal, sickening torture.

Lowering himself to their level wouldn't achieve anything, of course, even if he'd been able to, but – hell, in the privacy of his furious, outraged mind, Jethro Gibbs still prayed for its satisfaction anyway.

Wherever Jay Clark and his cronies were now, he silently hoped that they were in pain, _and_ suffering.

With any luck, they'd fallen into the life of self-destructive crime they'd seemed destined to follow.

If there was a god that protected the innocent, and punished the guilty, they'd be doing hard time now. Better still, they were already six feet under, or in such physical pain that they wished they _were_ dead.

And if they _were_ alive, if they ever happened to cross his path, professionally or otherwise – yes, he'd see to it, _personally_, with pleasure, and at deliberately slow length, that they'd regret it.

Right now, though, Gibbs knew he had a far more deserving, if pitifully broken cause, to think about. His unique, brilliant protégé. The closest thing, after Tony, to the cherished son he'd always wanted.

McGee.

Tim.

He'd tried, so bravely hard, to keep it back – refusing to concede to another loss of his body's control. Finally, though, to Gibbs' quiet relief, Tim McGee's courage had finally broken onto his shoulder.

The physical scars may have faded now, but the mental ones were still raw, and ran painfully deep – his whole body shaking, in unstoppable heaves, as twenty years of anger and agony poured out of him.

Holding onto him, offering what comfort he could, Gibbs closed his eyes in his own, silent shame.

Hearing what this sweet-natured, do-anything-for-anybody kid had endured had been bad enough – but knowing that he was equally responsible for triggering its memories made him angrier still.

Then, as now, Tim McGee had done nothing wrong. He'd done nothing to deserve what he'd suffered. He'd done nothing to deserve the punishment which had forced him to remember, and re-live them. And as those bitter words returned to haunt him, Gibbs now understood their horrific significance.

'-_against everything I_'_ve been through in my life already_, _Gibbs_, _you_'_re_ _an amateur-_'

He'd been called many things in his time, and insulted in equally countless ways, but this – no, being compared to the bully who'd caused Tim McGee such terror, such pain, cut him to the core.

He _had _to be hard on him at times, of course, to make this brilliant genius achieve his full potential. Yes, he _had_ to get angry with him, he _had_ to keep pushing him, he _had_ to whack him round the –

– oh, _crap_. In every sickening sense… oh, _crap_.

Dear God, he was. Thankfully not in Jay Clark's league, but – yes, he had to face it, he _was_ a bully.

Every time he slapped Tim McGee around his head, he hurt him, and when he'd forced him to kneel – damn it, even if McGee forgave him, as Gibbs knew he would, forgiving himself would be a lot harder.

Against what he'd just heard, this quiet apology would sound so hollow – but he still said it anyway.

"I'm sorry, Tim. For then, _and_ now, I am _so_ sorry-"

Even as he spoke those words, Gibbs knew that Tim McGee was in no fit state to appreciate them. But as he was constantly finding, this quiet, sweetly shy kid was like an overgrown Jack-In-The-Box.

When you least expected it, Tim McGee would say something that took you completely by surprise – the muffled, shaky whisper that now rose from his shoulder bringing a smile of pure pride to Jethro Gibbs' face.

"N-N'ver 'pologize, it's a… s-sign of… weakness-…"

Unseen by eyes that must have needed, so badly, to see it, that smile widened into a full blown grin

'_That_'_s my boy. Yeah_, _son_, _you_'_re_ _gonna be okay now-_'

Laughter didn't seem appropriate, though, at least not yet, so Gibbs just nodded his approval instead – the hand that was about to ruffle Tim's hair resettling, in rueful realization, back onto his shoulder.

If ever there was a fatherly hair-ruffle moment, this was it, but – well, that was going to be kinda hard.

Gibbs knew that, for the sake of his mom's precious approval, he _was_ trying to grow it back again. For now, though, there was barely enough of that buzzcutted bunny-fluff to rub, let alone ruffle.

Besides, he'd just heard something even more currently crucial than Momma McGee's favour – a precious sign that her son had still gratefully accepted that famously hated sign of weakness, and restored the crucial bonds of trust between them.

"B-Boss? Th-Thanks anyway-"


	8. Chapter 8 Truths And Consequences

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: I'm so pleased you're enjoying this story, despite its rather serious content.

I've been asked how long the story will be - well, I'm working on the fourteenth and final chapter now, so we're just over half way through. There's still a lot of difficult ground ahead for Tim and Gibbs to cover, but I'm bringing some humour in later too, which I hope you'll enjoy.

The worst may be over for Tim, but he and Gibbs still have a lot of talking to do, so I'd better let them get to it. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Eight - Truths And Consequences

He'd cried himself empty now, its effort taking much of Tim McGee's strength along with it.

A shot of bourbon would instantly cure that, of course, and probably knock him straight out too, but – well, Gibbs knew even that small amount of alcohol hitting an empty stomach wouldn't do him any favours. He'd probably throw it all back up anyway, and – no, in his state, that wouldn't do him any good at all.

Still anxiously studying him, Gibbs wished that Ducky was still around so he could call him in. Judging by the blankness in Tim's eyes, his blood sugar wasn't just low, it was under the floorboards. And even with his limited medical knowledge, he still recognized the signs of psychological shock. As Gibbs worriedly noted, he was physically and mentally drained, his face pale, his eyes glassy.

So yes, Ducky's expertise, and maybe a subtle Mickey Finn, would come in real handy right now. Without that benefit, and to keep this private revelation private, Gibbs knew he was on his own.

Luckily, the drinks and snacks machine had been re-filled that morning, with an impressive selection. For the sake of speed, though, Gibbs quickly chose a lightly sugared deluxe and a small candy bar – the combination of coffee and chocolate bringing, if slowly, some healthier colour back to Tim's face. When a faint but precious smile eventually followed, Gibbs knew he could _very_ proudly return it.

The worst was over. Now they could, if still so very carefully, talk the rest of it out into the open. And since he'd inadvertently triggered it, Gibbs felt honour bound to get that talking started – keeping his eyes subtly trained on Tim's face, ready to spot the first, tiniest sign of returning strain.

"Were they ever punished, Tim, for what they did to you?"

Blinking slightly, as if startled by what he'd been asked, Tim finally smiled and shook his head – his voice quiet, husky with tiredness but, to Gibbs' relief, much calmer than it had been before.

"No, boss, they weren't. I – I mean, everyone in class knew I was a klutz, I was _always_ falling over. So when the story went around camp that night, that I'd fallen off Smoky into a pile of pony poo… well, if anyone suspected what had _really_ happened, no-one in our dorm was gonna say anything-"

Pausing for a moment, Tim sat in silence for several more, thoughtfully studying his drink – his next words holding the regret of a dutiful son, and the helplessness of a brutalized child.

"I – I think mom realized something was wrong when I got home, 'cos… well, she _always_ knew. She knew that, whenever I went quiet, and – and walked round the block for hours on end, that… well, mom just knew. Whenever I walked to my grandparents' house six miles away, and she got the call from my grandfather telling her where I was… yeah, she knew something was wrong-"

As another silence stretched out between them, Tim then sighed, and ruefully shook his head – that regret inevitably overcoming him now, as he sighed again, and sadly re-met Gibbs' eyes.

"I – I _wanted_ to tell her, boss, but… well, I – I just _couldn_'_t._ I just couldn't tell her about this-"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to stare, as that famous gut instinct took its usual, intuitive leap forward. A shy smile was already confirming his suspicions, but – hell, Gibbs still asked for it anyway, just to seal the astonishing privilege of trust which Tim McGee had just placed in him.

"Have you told _anyone_, Tim? Have you talked about _any_ of this before?"

Without any help from his coffee, or his chocolate bar, Tim's face subtly changed colour – a flush of embarrassment rising into his cheeks as he sighed again, and shrugged his shoulders.

"No, boss, I haven't. I – I mean, having the crap kicked out of you, then being forced to _kneel _in it while you had live maggots shoved down your throat… well, it isn't exactly something you _want_ to talk about, boss. It's nothing to be proud of-"

Bowing his head back into reflectful thought, Tim found its progress halted by a gently firm hand – the same hand that now nudged his head up again, to meet two piercing but compassionate eyes.

"Hey, you hold that head _up_, Tim," Gibbs told him, in a quiet voice that brooked no argument – his next words equally soft, but still holding an unmistakeable message of both authority and support.

"You have got _nothing_ to be ashamed of. You did _nothing_ wrong, Tim. _No_ part of what was done to you that day was _your_ fault-"

It was such a simple statement, but the significance, for both of them, was glaringly obvious.

Green eyes met blue – the former suddenly nervous in realization, the latter again haunted by guilt. Facing the traumas of the past had, inevitably, brought them back to the mistake that had revived them.

That mistake, that issue which had broken the trust between them, still had to be fully resolved. And when Tim's line of sight shifted, to stare wistfully at the nightlit view outside, Gibbs already knew what he had to do, and say, next.

Passing Tim his coat, Gibbs then smiled and lightly slapped his leg as he nodded back through the window, to that glorious view.

"I don't know about the six miles, Tim, but… well, do you feel up to a walk round the yard?"

The smile that answered him was still so tired, a shadow of its usual, infectious strength. But as Tim nodded and rose to his feet, Gibbs knew that smile was another, crucial sign of re-built trust between them.

They were getting there, still painfully slowly, but they _were _getting there.


	9. Chapter 9 Not Quite A Walk In The Park

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: I've used a little bit of writer's licence here, just to give Tim and Gibbs something in common to talk about before they come to the really big issue.

We found out in season four's "In The Dark" that Tim can recognize constellations, and he seems to have an interest in astronomy. I thought it might be something that Gibbs would also share as a hobby.

So this chapter paves the way for the next one, where the _really_ serious talking starts. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Nine - Not _Quite_ A Walk In The Park

Hot coffee had been invented for nights like these, and tonight – jeez, it needed to be _volcanically _hot. Frost was now crunchily coating the ground, and the full moon above them was a celestial torchbeam.

It was a truly beautiful sight, one that he'd normally be happy to enjoy, but – _damn_, it was cold!

If he _was_ silently regretting his decision to come outside, though, then Gibbs wasn't going to show it. For one thing, the fresh air had brought Tim McGee's face back to an encouragingly healthier colour.

It had cleared his head, too – chasing those horrific memories out, letting simple pleasure take its place. And all the time he was smiling like this – yeah, Gibbs figured he could tolerate a bit of harmless cold.

Besides, they were walking too, matching strides in a brisk but random route through the main yard – the exercise, their coats and, of course, deluxe sizes of volcanically hot coffee keeping the worst of it at bay.

They'd talked, too. Just simple, casual conversation, paving the way for what they still had to face.

As they'd studied Orion, in all its angular brilliance, they'd found a shared interest in astronomy. To Gibbs' surprise, McGee could also name every shuttle, _and_ its crew, since the program had started.

Not to be outdone, Gibbs had then admitted to a lifelong wish that he, too, could go into space. The view, both had agreed, would be every bit as amazing as DC's multi-coloured, night-lit skyline.

For almost an hour, they just walked, gratefully sipped their coffees, and talked about any subject that happened to occur to them. A shared love of old fashioned vinyl. The godsend of comfortable shoes. Their new shared interest in the space program.

Tim had revealed that, given the chance, and in the right company - yes, he'd love to go riding again. Taking a deep drink of coffee, he didn't see the thoughtful smile that grew, slyly, across Gibbs' face.

They'd moved on then, to find another shared interest in the dying art of true craftmanship. And, of course, they animatedly discussed the two traits that they'd just _never_ have in common.

In dryly agreed compromise, Gibbs had promised that he'd _try_ to understand computers, and McGee that he'd _try_ to enjoy softball.

Finally, though, Gibbs sensed, then heard, and then saw, the subtlest change in mood between them – a deep sigh, and the directness of two thankfully clear green eyes, causing his own smile to widen.

He could read faces like other people read books. Right now, Tim McGee's was a dead giveaway.

'_Enough with the small talk, boss, let_'_s_ _get to the point already_!'

He'd assumed, too, that McGee would expect _him_ to get the ball rolling, but – well, apparently not.

"Thanks, boss, for, um… well, for what you… I – I mean, for the- um…"

Dryly thinking that if he didn't intervene now, they'd be out here all night, Gibbs just shrugged – resting a fatherly hand on Tim's shoulder as they walked on towards that special spot by the river.

"No thanks needed, Tim. I'm glad I could help, but just sorry for its reason," he said gently, casting shrewd eyes over the pensive face beside him.

Its colour was almost normal now, but Tim McGee had still gone through one hell of a rough night. Gibbs knew it wasn't over yet either. They still had several issues to settle, and none would be easy.

Luckily, the trust between them was still there. A gently casual question could only make it stronger.

"You okay?"

That won him a self-conscious smile as Tim nodded, huddling a little bit deeper into his coat.

"Yeah, boss, I'm fine-" he said at last, risking a wry grin against the rise of a sceptical eyebrow.

"I – I know it's hard to believe, boss, especially after tonight, but… well, I've got a pretty thick skin. I've been growing it since I was six, long before Jay Clark and his gang got their hands on me, so… yeah, boss, when I need it the most, that skin protects me pretty well. I can handle most things-"

Pausing for a moment, realizing that he was about to disprove his own words, Tim then sighed – pulling a face that a mind so thoroughly driven by laws of logic had just let itself, _and_ him, down.

"But that punishment, boss, and – and what's happened tonight because of it," he continued at last – encouraged by a gentle smile to finally raise the issue that both of them knew they had to resolve. "This thing with Abby… I – I don't know why, boss, but it's just thrown me right off the rails-"

It had taken several hours of painstaking, and often painful work, but – yes, they were finally there.

With so much riding on it, Gibbs knew that his response had to be thought out just as carefully. Despite all the progress they'd made, Tim McGee was still clearly torn and troubled by a conflict of loyalties.

The face beside him was suddenly tired again, the eyes that met his equally strained and uncertain. It was getting colder now too, and – well, luckily Gibbs already knew the solution for that.

"Yeah, Tim, I know," he said at last, sliding his arm around now tellingly downturned shoulders – gently steering his surrogate son towards a place of warm safety, where he could continue to heal.

"C'mon, Tim, I think you've walked far enough now. Let's get you back inside-"


	10. Chapter 10 Healing Through Hell

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Well, we're into the final stretch now, and the serious talking also starts here.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that Gibbs sees Abby as his lost daughter, hence the closeness of their relationship. Of course, we don't find out about Shannon and Kelly until the start of series four, so Tim wouldn't have known about them either during the timeline of Bloodbath - hence the rather awkward position that Gibbs finds himself in towards the end of this chapter. Don't worry, though - Abby certainly isn't off the hook just yet!

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Ten - Healing Through Hell

He'd withdrawn again, into a restless silence which, by turn, had again left Gibbs quietly worried.

In the Marines, in all their Armed Forces, they could call this PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Triggered by a seemingly harmless event – well, Gibbs already knew how horrific the rest could be.

He didn't know its civilian equivalent, but he figured, he quietly prayed, that its solution was the same.

He'd already managed the first part. He'd brought Tim McGee back into a place where he felt safe. Another reviving coffee had cleared his eyes, and thankfully brought a faint smile back onto his face.

So far, so good. Now he just had to get through the trickiest part, and get the boy talking again – his own experience giving Gibbs a crucial connection, a common ground, that he could build upon. And as he'd hoped, Tim McGee hung onto his every word like a toddler listening to a favourite story.

"I know I haven't gone through what _you_'_ve_ been through, Tim, but… well, I still know how you feel. I saw hell on earth when I was in the Marines, and… well, you went through yours, Tim, at that camp. When you were force-fed those maggots, you went through something that traumatized you, and hurt you. And however much a genius you were, even at that age, you were still too young to fully deal with it.

So you did the only thing you _could_ do, Tim, to make all that pain, and anger, and shame, go away. You suppressed that memory, and… well, you said it yourself, that punishment brought it all back. And suppressing trauma like that, Tim, without realizing you're doing it, or how badly it's affecting you… yeah, when you finally let yourself remember, it can make even the sanest person go kinda crazy-"

Realizing that hadn't _quite_ come out as he'd meant it, Gibbs offered Tim a suitably rueful grin – so relieved for the shy smile which told him that he didn't need to say any more.

Just to make sure, though, Gibbs squeezed his shoulder, then gave it a fatherly heartening shake.

"But _you_'_re_ not crazy, Tim. You're one of the strongest, sanest, and _bravest_, people that I've ever met. And what you've faced tonight, Tim, what you've told me, took a _lot_ of courage. I'm proud of you-"

"Then why don't you trust me, boss? Why didn't you trust my judgement?" Tim cut in softly – encouraged by a surprisingly understanding smile to ask the hardest, most crucial questions of all.

"If you're proud of me, boss, as much as you've just said you are, why can't you just _believe_ in me? Why didn't you listen to me, even when I practically begged you not to inflict that punishment? And why do you always take _Abby_'_s_ word, above everyone else's, even when you _know_ she's wrong?"

It was the longest, and certainly the strongest, speech that he'd made since they'd returned. Judging by two steadily rising eyebrows, Gibbs had been as surprised by it as McGee was himself.

Finally, and to Tim's open relief, Gibbs smiled at him and, if somewhat ruefully, nodded agreement.

"I know you must have doubted it in the past, and even more so now, but… Tim, I _do_ believe in you. I wouldn't have recommended you, onto _my_ team, if I didn't believe in _you_, or your abilities. Only the best people make it to my team, and… yes, believe this, Tim, you're one of the best agents I've ever worked with-"

If he hadn't had Tim McGee's attention before, Gibbs knew he had every part of his attention now – his eyes so wide, so huge that, if it were humanly possible, they'd have rolled out of their sockets.

Quietly cherishing that priceless expression, Gibbs returned that shy smile with one of pure relief – pausing for a moment, before he tried to answer the question that would revive his own personal hell.

"As for favouring Abby… yes, you had every right to ask me that, too. Why I always take her side. After everything you've been through tonight, _and_ three days ago, I know you deserve an answer, but… well, it's harder for me to explain, Tim, than you can appreciate right now. It's hard, Tim. Complicated-"

The eyes that met his might have been shadowed by tiredness and his own awful memories – but to Gibbs' bittersweet pride, the uniquely brilliant mind beyond it was still as sharp as ever.

"Because she reminds you of someone. _That_'_s_ why you've always been so close-" Tim said at last – the enthusiasm of knowing he was right skidding, gradually, into realization of a wholly different kind.

"Someone special, someone _really_ close to you, who… that's… _oh_! Oh, boy… boss, I - I'm… oh, _crap-_"

Considering he'd been forced to kneel in the real, revolting stuff when he'd been eight years old – yes, as he continued to face its legacy, this was a truly momentous thing for Tim McGee to say.

Judging by the smile of fatherly affection that spread over Gibbs' face, he'd appreciated it, too – his reply stopped by quiet words of pure compassion, and shaken realization, as Tim shook his head.

"No, boss, if – if it's _that_ hard for you, then… no, boss, I – I don't have the right to make you tell me-"

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Gibbs then smiled, in pride for the new understanding on Tim McGee's face. He _would_ tell him, of course, when the time was right – but that time wasn't _quite _right for either of them yet.

They'd both suffered. Both had memories that had left them scared, _and_ scarred. Hurt, and traumatized. But as their eyes met, and held, those traumas and memories became just slightly easier to live with.


	11. Chapter 11 Honours Even

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Okay, just a bit more talking between Tim and Gibbs here, as we head towards the end of the story, and also a little bit of the humour I promised you earlier. Well, after all this angst and anguish for our heroes, I thought they'd appreciate a bit of a break from it!

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Eleven - Honours Even

He'd originally planned to get home early, work a bit on the boat, then settle in for the night's game. All that had gone on hold, of course, when he'd found Tim McGee sitting, so alone, so angry and scared, on that bench.

Through the traumatic hours that had followed, those plans had been gradually, inevitably, forgotten. Not that Gibbs minded. As he smiled back into two tired but still clear green eyes, he didn't mind at all. Bridges of trust that had seemed irrevocably broken when that night had started weren't just intact again, they were stronger now too, as that night drew towards its end.

Like all good craftsmen, though, Gibbs knew there was no harm in shoring those bridges up a bit more. He'd recognized his mistake, and acknowledged, several times over, that it shouldn't have happened. Now Gibbs knew he had to make an equally crucial promise, to vow that it would _never_ happen again.

He just hoped that a subtly yawning Tim McGee would stay awake long enough to hear it.

"I know I'm your mentor, Tim, that you look up to me as such, but… well, I'm _human_ too, Tim. I make mistakes. I know I made a mistake, a bad one, when I didn't listen to you, and support your judgement when I should have done. That hurt you, and I know I can't change it, or take it back. But I _can_ promise you, Tim, that I'll _never_ make that mistake, or put you through this, _ever_ again-"

Blinking slightly, in both tiredness and surprise, Tim then smiled into a subtly reddening face – deciding this was as good a time as any to shore up a few still shaky personal bridges of his own.

"What I… um, what I said earlier, boss, about you, um… being an amateur-" he said at last – knowing from a gentle smile that he didn't need to say any more, but still compelled to say it anyway.

"There's a world of difference, between what Jay Clark did to me then, and what _you_ do to me now, and… well, I'm – I'm sorry too, boss. I had no right to compare _you_ to him, and… well, I'm – I'm sorry-"

There was only one way, of course, to chastise him for committing this sin of showing weakness. But even with that '_yeah, I know what's coming, boss_' smile on Tim McGee's face, Gibbs still knew he had to tread carefully.

"So you _really _don't mind when I do this?" he asked at last, gently cuffing the back of Tim's head – staring, in genuine surprise, for the soft laughter, and bittersweet admission, that finally followed.

"Kate told me once, when I first started working with you, when I – I was finding it hard to settle in, that… well, you and Tony, you'd only make my life hell because it meant you cared. I've always seen that as meaning that I belong, boss, that I do fit in, so… no, I don't mind. It might smart a bit sometimes, and give me the odd concussion, but… no, boss, I don't mind, because… well, I know what it means-"

Pausing for a moment, Tim then treated his boss, friend, and surrogate father to a full strength, all-out, mega-McGee grin.

"If that's the case, boss, then… well, you and Tony must care about me an _awful_ lot-"

Jethro Gibbs didn't laugh often, but when he did, in your presence, and as heartily as this – well, even the most nervous rookie in the world knew that laughter was a _very _good sign.

When he laughed like this – yes, you knew you'd been rarely favoured. And when he spoke to you as warmly, and proudly, as this, you knew you had his total respect.

"Yes, Tim, I do. I might not show it, but, yes, you're on _my_ team. And yes, I _do_ care about you-"

Favour and respect was one thing, of course, but he'd _never_ let you get all mushy and big headed about it - the soft words that followed holding a familiar vehemence, but also a crucial, unmistakeable promise.

"That's _not_ to say, McGee, that I won't still yell at you, make your life hell, _or_ whack you round the head, but… well, that'll only happen if, and when, you deserve it, Tim. If Tony, or Ziva, and… yes, even Abby, if _they_ screw up, Tim, if _they_ do something that's _their_ fault, _they_'_ll_ get punished for it, not you-"

The words he'd thought he'd never hear – met with a shy smile which then grew mischievously wider.

"Even Ziva?" Tim said at last, risking a gentle whack just for the sleepily cheeky grin on his face. "When you _do_, boss, give me enough time to get to cover. Better still, the next state!"

"Yeah, maybe I'll use my boss's privilege, get DiNozzo to do it for me instead, and join you," Gibbs agreed – grinning too, then laughing outright as Tim sniggered, and nodded in mischievously rapid approval.

Given all the teasing, razzing and just plain abuse that he'd suffered from his honorary big brother – yes, it was kinda nice to see how quickly Tim McGee agreed to dump that big brother right in it.

Watching him curl back, calm and content, into his side of the couch, Gibbs then felt his smile widen. For his enthusiasm, his loyalty, his truly incredible courage, this boy just never ceased to amaze him.

"Oh, jeez, boss, look – look at the time!"

Choking on his coffee, Gibbs then rolled his eyes as he wiped a fine spray of spillage from his lap. His clock-reading skills weren't too shabby, either. His timing, though? Yeah, _that_ needed work.

A pause, then, followed by a sheepishly plaintive voice that made him choke again, in silent laughter.

"Um, boss?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"This… um… this one's on me-"

*whack*


	12. Chapter 12 Home Comforts

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: I must admit, I rather enjoyed writing the end of that last chapter! There's a little more humour in this chapter, and the one after, too.

First, though, Gibbs faces one of his hardest challenges - trying to convince Tim McGee that it's bed-time.

Enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Twelve - Home Comforts

As he gratefully finished his coffee, Gibbs smiled. Hell had no fury like one of his ex-wives scorned. And the struggle not to laugh had posed no greater challenge to his self-control than the one he faced now.

Tim McGee was _way_ past his bed-time – and watching him realize that was just a pure joy to watch.

"Aw, jeez, I - I can't believe how late it is," he said at last, staring, in stunned mortification, down at his watch. "By the time I drive home, get to bed, and get a few hours sleep, it'll be time to come in again-"

"So stay here," Gibbs replied, letting a quiet chuckle escape as Tim blinked quizzically back at him.

Those two degrees, and all that brain-power, didn't _always_ let this genius see the blindingly obvious. And if he didn't stop blinking, in that puzzled innocence, Gibbs knew his self-control would crumble. He knew several women in the bullpen who wanted, _very_ willingly, to 'mother' Tim McGee. Now he understood why.

Once sure that he could continue without cracking up completely, Gibbs then shrugged his shoulders.

"You've got fresh clothes here, haven't you? And there's the general showers, just down the hall. So get your head down here, Tim, get some sleep, then you can start work later, as usual. Okay?"

Still frowning slightly, Tim then pulled a face, in wry disgust that he hadn't thought of this himself.

"Yeah, boss, that's… yeah, that makes more sense than driv'ng… 'me… now-" he said at last – his next words becoming lost in such a lengthy, cavernous yawn that Gibbs almost fell into it too.

Even as he laughed, though, Gibbs could still see the genuine, increasing exhaustion on Tim's face. The time for laughing and joking was over now, at least until they could both fully appreciate it.

They'd both had a rough night, and Tim McGee had three nights' worth of sleep to catch up on. Judging by another, boss-swallowing yawn, he was practically there already. He just wouldn't admit it.

Gibbs just hoped he wouldn't need a lullaby to convince him. He really didn't have the voice for it.

Smiling at the thought of singing this twenty eight year old kid to sleep, Gibbs then patted his shoulder as he rose to his feet.

"Get some sleep, Tim, just come down when you're ready. I'll make sure you're not disturbed-"

"What, you're gonna post Ziva on guard outside the door?" Tim shot back through a sleepy grin – deciding, as Gibbs merely smiled and shrugged in reply, that he _didn_'_t_ want to hear the answer to that.

A Mossad assassin as his guard-cum-babysitter? Just the thought made his mind frettishly boggle.

Instead, dutifully removing his shoes, he swung his legs onto the couch, and curled himself into it – no easy feat, as a modest three-seater _hadn_'_t_ been designed to accommodate a six foot one inch, linebacker-built McGee.

After some careful jacknifing that would do any circus contortionist proud, he finally managed it – if only by wriggling further onto his back, and draping those endless legs over the couch's armrest.

Watching him settle, Gibbs felt a fond smile widen as he started a silent, ten second countdown – noting, in proud relief, that Tim McGee was quietly snoring before he'd even reached half-way. By the time he reached zero, the boy wasn't just lost to the world, he was lost to the whole universe.

And to Gibbs' grateful approval, he was smiling too, safe in a sanctuary of peaceful dreams. Wherever his subconscious had taken him – yes, Tim McGee was clearly happy to be there. With or without that proverbial teddy-bear, he was sleeping now as soundly as the proverbial baby.

Gibbs still knew, though, how quickly that could change. He'd just re-lived a truly horrific ordeal. Just because he was sleeping peacefully now didn't mean those memories couldn't still reach him.

There was no point in driving home himself now either, for the short time he'd be there, so – well, if he followed his own words of wisdom, he could also keep guard over Tim McGee himself. And in the few hours peace he had left before the rest of his team arrived, he could catch up on some paperwork too.

Pulling a face at that last thought, Gibbs then brightened again as he glanced over his shoulder. Paperwork was so much less of a chore, he dryly decided, when you had a constant supply of coffee.

Better still, it was hot. Plentiful. And free.

Gently draping his coat over Tim's shoulders, Gibbs then padded to the nearest, and fullest, pot – carrying it back with him to one of the easy chairs which had a convenient table right next to it.

Stretching, gratefully, into deep cushioned comfort, he then settled in for the rest of his vigil – allowing himself another satisfied smile as he watched Tim curl himself more snugly under his coat. He had coffee, a comfy chair, and his boy was tucked up asleep in front of him, held safe in carefree dreams. What more could he ask for?

Glancing through the window behind him, Gibbs then felt his smile widen. They'd both had one hell of a night – but the coming dawn promised them both a _much_ brighter day.


	13. Chapter 13 Priorities For The Probie

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Well, folks, this will be the second to last chapter. I know the story has been centred around Tim and Gibbs, but - well, I just couldn't resist dropping Tony into the mix as well.

The next and final chapter will bring Abby in too, and - well, let's just say the experience won't be as easy for her as this one will be for Tony.

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Thirteen - Priorities For The Probie

As he settled in at his desk, Tony DiNozzo frowned slightly as he looked expectantly around him, checked his watch, then swept another glance along two notably empty desks.

Beating Gibbs into work was weird. Beating McTimex into work was equally unheard of. And Gibbs striding through the bullpen at seven in the morning, carrying an armload of files, without even noticing him was – hell, just plain, damn, freaky.

Something was clearly up, and – well, as senior agent, it was his sworn duty to find out what it was.

A secret mission, perhaps? Clandestine lessons in people skills, or – oh, you had to be kidding!

Following his CO, still unnoticed, into their quiet-room, Tony then froze in the open doorway – his eyes lighting up, in razz-the-rookie glee, at the sight of that rookie curled up asleep in front of him.

Oh, this was priceless! All his Christmases and birthdays for the rest of his life had all come at once.

Before he could enjoy any of them, though, or even think about extracting his cellphone to capture the moment, a soft growl in his ear persuaded him, with familiar speed, to think again.

"Don't-"

Placing his files next to his chair, Gibbs then met two guiltily nervous eyes with a slight, tired smile – his next words just slightly softer as he nodded towards the soundly sleeping figure beside him.

"Leave him alone, Tony. Let him sleep-"

Even without that warning tone, the smile on Tony's face had already changed to a concerned frown. Gibbs looked tired, haggard, and angry, while McGee looked tired, haggard, and – yeah, like crap just about covered it.

Not knowing just how apt that description was, Tony then glanced quizzically back at Gibbs – all thoughts of flippant mischief disappearing now, as he realized his probie was in genuine trouble.

"Is – Is he okay, boss? He looks wiped out-"

Gibbs smiled at that, adding a reassuring nod as he gestured for Tony to follow him into the kitchen – hoping he could answer Tony's inevitable questions without breaking the confidence that had been placed in him.

"Yeah, he's had a rough night, Tony. Not enough sleep, and memories he just shouldn't have-"

Already putting two and two together, Tony's eyes widened even more as he glanced back at Tim.

"He's had a _nightmare_?" he said at last, unable to keep the surprise, or amusement, from his voice – wisely keeping that voice considerately softer as an eyebrow rose in silent, unmistakeable warning.

"Boss, he's twenty eight! Isn't he… well, kinda old for that?"

That was a perfectly valid point, of course – but Gibbs knew that _his_ point was sadly, and equally, true

"Bad memories never leave you, Tony, no matter how old or strong you are. Tim's no different, and… well, these are really bad, Tony, and he just doesn't deserve to have them-"

Glancing at his watch, then at McGee, then at Tony, Gibbs finally smiled in easier, happier approval.

"Still, he's been out cold for five hours now, and nothing's happened, so… yeah, he should be okay. If it was going to hit him again, even if less violently than last time, it would have done so already-"

If he'd meant to reassure his senior agent, then it hadn't worked quite as well as he'd hoped – his conscience also re-stirred now by the alarm on Tony's face, and the equivalent shock in his voice.

"_That_ bad, boss?"

"Yeah, Tony, that bad. He's been through hell tonight, two times over," Gibbs replied softly – holding breath with Tony as Tim stirred and mumbled in his sleep, and sharing his relief when he quietened again.

Rolling onto his side, and curling up under his coat, he then settled back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Once sure he'd fully settled, Gibbs turned to face Tony, quietly pre-empting his inevitable question.

"You must've noticed how quiet he's been these last few days, and… well, tonight he told me why. Like I said, Tony, he has memories he shouldn't have, and _I_'_m_ the one who triggered them-"

Remembering the trust that had been placed in him, he then cast Tony a gentle, near apologetic smile.

"He told me in confidence, Tony, and I can't break that. I'm sure he'll tell you later anyway-"

"Yeah, boss, I know-" Tony nodded, following him to where Tim lay, still peacefully sleeping – so distracted in watching his friend that a gently dry question beside him caught him totally off-guard.

"What, you couldn't sleep either?"

Recovering himself with typical, finely honed speed, Tony then grinned, as only Tony DiNozzo could.

"Paperwork, boss. With Abby's case and all, it's kinda backed up, so I thought I'd come in early, bef-…"

"I could catch you," Gibbs finished for him, grinning too at his senior agent's 'busted' expression – growing more serious, though, as he crouched at Tim's side and, _very_ gently, searched through his coat.

"The paperwork can wait, Tony," he added softly, nodding to the snugly curled figure beside him. "I want you to do something _much _more important than that. Stay here with Tim until I get back. Just keep an eye on him for me, make sure he's okay 'til I get back from… well, something _I_ need to do that can't wait-"

Knowing, just from that tone, that it was best _not_ to ask its cause, Tony just nodded instead – watching, in puzzled surprise, as Gibbs slipped a small plastic cylinder into the pocket of his shirt.

The expression on his face too, as he glanced back at Tim, carried the same, unmistakeable message.

Whatever trauma that Tim McGee had been through tonight wasn't just down to Jethro Gibbs. Someone else was involved too – and that someone, whoever owned that tube, was in _serious _trouble.

Watching him stride through a carefully unslammed door, Tony released a long held breath as he turned back to quietly address the hibernating bundle beside him.

"Hey, you've gotten the boss-man worried, probie. Not to mention mad, and - yeah, kid, wherever you are right now, I think you'd better stay there a while, longer, okay?"

As a sleepy mumble answered him, Tony smiled. With no-one around to witness it, he knew it was safe now, to slip out of the persona that everyone else saw, to the role that he silently cherished.

Settling at his little brother's side, Tony then rested the gentlest of protective hands on Tim McGee's shoulder, determined to keep him safe, while all hell was let loose around them.


	14. Chapter 14 Promises Made, Promises Kept

Heroes And Demons by ceilidh

A/N: Well, here we are - the end of another story. It's turned out rather longer than the four or five chapters I originally had planned, but I've still enjoyed writing it. Thanks as always to everyone who have taken the time and trouble to review it.

Now, this final chapter is rather longer than its predecessors, simply because I thought it would flow better as a single instalments, rather than three individual ones. Even though it closes this story, though, I _have_ left the ending open for a possible sequel, so stay tuned!

So, for the last time for now, enjoy, and I hope to be back here soon!

Heroes And Demons

Chapter Fourteen - Promises Made, Promises Kept

As the elevator doors opened, a blast of unmistakeable music almost knocked Gibbs back into it. For once, though, even when he saw Abby jiving exuberantly though her lab, he didn't, _couldn_'_t_, smile. She looked so happy, so full of her irrepressible spirit. But, Gibbs knew, all that was about to change.

She'd made a mistake, and then stood quietly back while Tim McGee paid a painful price for it. Now, however much it hurt him to do it, and her to sit and hear it, she had to face its fallout.

So it hurt him, more than he dared to show, that Abby now turned to greet him with such enthusiasm – the smile that could light up an entire room fading, and then vanishing, when Gibbs failed to return it.

She'd seen that look enough times to know that whoever was on its receiving end was in trouble – her conscience already telling her what she'd done to warrant that unsettlingly piercing stare.

Abby just hoped that a genuinely concerned observation would help to defuse the oncoming tirade of Jethro Gibbs' infamous temper.

"Hey, Gibbs, you… um, you look kinda trashed-"

"Yeah, well, I've been up all night, Abs, talking over a crime scene with McGee," Gibbs replied – deliberately keeping his eyes trained on hers, refusing to release them, as he reached into his shirt.

"Got some evidence for you, Abby. I want _you_ to tell me the _real _story behind it-"

Drawing out her toothbrush, he then placed it, with careful calm, onto the workbench beside them – knowing, from her reaction when she saw it, that Abby already knew what was coming next.

"My – My toothbrush," she said at last, fidgeting uneasily as she re-met Gibbs' eyes – any temptation she'd felt to fudge her way around it scuppered by the disappointment within them.

Shame now joined the guilt which had been niggling at Abby's conscience for the last three days.

This amazing friend, the mentor who'd become a second father to her – damn it, she'd let him down. The unwise silence which had deceived him, misled him, had left her in one almighty deep hole.

Only complete honesty, expressed in a quietly shaky admission, was going to help her climb out of it.

"I – I left it in his car, and – and though he didn't like it, I – I made him go down and get it for me. I opened the door, thinking it was him, but it – it wasn't… it was Mikel instead, that's how he got in. I let him in, Gibbs, without checking who it was, and… I – I guess Timmy's just told you that?"

Smiling to himself, at the pet-name that only she could use and get away with, Gibbs then sighed. It pained him to admit it, but – yes, Tim McGee, and his own conscience, had been right all along.

This brilliant young woman, the closest thing he'd ever have to Kelly, _wasn_'_t _his faultless daughter. She made mistakes which, until now, he'd turned a blind eye to, as only every doting father could.

But not any more. After tonight, Gibbs sadly reminded himself, he couldn't let that continue.

"You'd guess right, Abby. Yes, Tim's told me what _really_ happened that night," he said at last – pausing for a moment, gathering breath for the quiet, carefully stressed words that eventually followed.

"But he didn't tell me by choice, or to break the trust between you that _you_'_ve_ broken against him. He did it because of what _my_ misassumption, _my_ actions, and _their_ consequences, were doing to him. I punished him, Abs, because I assumed that he'd disobeyed _my_ orders and left _you _unguarded-"

Her expression alone, a telltale hitch in her breathing, told him how genuinely remorseful she was. But for his sake, for hers and, most crucially, for Tim McGee's, Gibbs knew he had to tell her the rest.

"I forced him to kneel, Abby, at his desk, in front of everyone he works with, because of _your_ mistake. And that punishment hasn't just humiliated him in front of his colleagues, Abs, it's hurt him. Badly.

It's brought back memories so painful for him that he's barely slept, for three nights, because of them. He's been having nightmares, re-living those memories. And tonight's has hit him really hard-"

The rising alarm on her face silently broke his heart – enough for him to now try to reassure her.

"He's okay, Abs. He's sleeping now, up in the quiet room, and Tony's with him," he added gently – squeezing her hand, keeping that contact between them as he steered her towards a nearby stool.

"But before I take you up to him, you and I need to have a _serious_ talk about our part in this. We're _both_ to blame for what happened to him tonight, so… sit down, Abs. This could take a while-"

Knowing better than to argue, not daring to even try, Abby nodded and shakily did as told – the nervousness of her next words speaking volumes for the guilt that now niggled her conscience.

"Is – Is that why he hasn't been to see me, or talked to me? I – I mean, is – is Timmy okay?"

He _would_ be okay, of course, once he'd slept and let Abby make her hyper-fuss peace with him, but – well, as Gibbs so wearily knew, that moment of precious reconciliation was still a long way off.

Trust on three sides had been broken. On his side, at least, that trust had to be re-built, _and_ re-earned.

To do that, she had to be honest with him. Before that, though, he had to be equally honest with her.

"No, Abby, he isn't," Gibbs said at last, forcing himself to ignore the disappointment on her face.

What followed next was too much for him, though, as eyes of purest green widened in purest horror – a guilt-ridden mind turning a simple 'two-plus-two-equals-four' equation into advanced string theory.

"Oh, my God, he's - he's _leaving,_ isn't he_?_" Abby whispered, ploughing tearfully on before Gibbs could stop her.

"He's – He's so mad at me that he's gonna leave, and – and never talk to me again, and- and…"

Knowing if he didn't stop her now, he'd be in serious trouble, Gibbs gently caught her shoulders – giving them just enough of a shake to bring that hyper-panicked imagination back under control.

"No, Abs, he isn't leaving. Tim isn't going _anywhere_," he assured her, with the gentle patience borne from much experience.

"But we've made mistakes that have hurt him, Abs, and now we've got to take their consequences-"

A thankfully calmer nod was a promising sign – but Gibbs knew he couldn't just leave it at that. However much it hurt, she had to know that she'd almost wrecked two priceless friendships.

After what had just happened, though, Gibbs kept his next words on the gentler side of his temper.

"He's hurt, and angry, that he was punished for something that was _your_ fault, and I don't blame him. He's angry, and disappointed that _you_ didn't tell me, yourself, what _really_ happened that night, and… well, Abs, I'm disappointed too. I thought you had more respect for him, for _me_, than that-"

Just as he'd expected, and quietly hoped, those last words brought an instant, and heartfelt response.

"But I _do_, Gibbs! I _do_ respect you, _and_ Timmy! I'd – I'd never do anything to jeopardize that!"

He couldn't doubt her word now. You couldn't fake a reaction as heartfelt, or so emotional, as this. It was her actions _then_, though, at Tim McGee's apartment, that he still needed to challenge.

"Then why didn't you obey him when he told you not to open that door?" Gibbs asked quietly – his eyes widening slightly, as another rush of tumbling words caught him, very rarely, off-guard.

"I – I don't know, Gibbs! I – I mean, I _know_ it was dumb, and – and stupid of me, to do it, but… well, I'm _me_, Gibbs! I – I just couldn't believe that anyone out there wanted to kill _me!_"

As hard as he tried to restrain it, Gibbs now smiled as he compared one brilliant mind against another. Such innocence, such naïveté against danger, and – yeah, he dryly decided, it had to be a geek thing.

Tim McGee had learned to overcome it, of course. He'd _had_ to. If he hadn't, he'd be dead by now.

But however breathtakingly intelligent Abby was, in this sheltered protection of _her _environment – well, as he'd often found himself, her independence and curiosity often broke all rules of sense, restraint, and reason.

Until now, he'd turned an indulgent blind eye to it, as only a father could to his favourite child, but – well, if he was to show _his_ respect for Tim McGee, Gibbs knew that now he had to make an exception.

"Hell of a way for you to find out otherwise, wasn't it, Abs?" he said at last, re-meeting her eyes – knowing from a quiet sniff, a shaky nod, that he'd made his point, but still driving it home anyway.

"Someone _was_ out to get you, Abs, and Tim had already risked his life to protect you from them. _That_'_s_ why I assigned him to you, again, that night, because I knew that he would keep you safe. He knew your life was in real danger, Abby. That's why he ordered you _not _to open that door"

Another sniffle, louder than last time – and Gibbs had already guessed what was coming next.

As the true extent of her recklessness that night sank in, he slid an arm around her shoulders – his next words slightly softer, as they had to be, but still firm enough to be fully understood.

"He was doing his job, Abs. He was doing what _I_'_d_ told him to do, to keep _you_ safe-"

Turning her to face him, Gibbs then lightly gripped her shoulders so that she couldn't turn away – his next words quiet, but still holding a slight edge of lingering anger, and undeniable authority.

"You're not a child, Abs. You're an adult who should know their responsibilities, _and_ account for them. And I don't mind if you _do_ make mistakes, Abby. It's how you learn not to make those mistakes again.

But I _do_ mind, I _will_ mind, if you make a mistake and then let someone else take the blame for you, while _you _stand back and let them.

Tim's gone through hell tonight, Abby, because of _your_ mistake, and _my_ misassumptions from it. Don't you _ever_ let him, or _me_, or anyone else, take the rap for you like this again. Clear?"

He'd driven that last point home as he'd had to do – hard and fast, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. As a shaky nod accepted it, he then drew her closer to him, to whisper a final, gentler afterthought.

"That night was like a crime scene, Abs. Everything that happened that night were pieces of evidence. And I made a wrong call on that crime scene, Abby. I put Tim through that punishment, because…"

"…I screwed up, Gibbs, and let Timmy take the blame," Abby finished for him, meeting his eyes again – the silent acceptance of understanding on her face causing Gibbs to smile now, in genuine approval.

From her expression alone, he knew that Abby Sciuto would _never_ make that mistake again.

Silence, inevitably, then set in between them - broken, finally, by the only voice, and words, that could.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Gibbs-"

Normally, of course, Gibbs would slap that hated sign of weakness straight out of the offender's head. For once, though, he gladly accepted it as he slipped a fatherly arm back around Abby's shoulders.

"So from now on, you're going to own up to _all_ your screw-ups, Abs, without _any_ help from me?" he said at last – fighting back a grin as two vigorously bobbing pigtails answered him more sweetly than any words.

Hugging her, he then pressed her toothbrush into her hand – meeting startled eyes with a gentle smile.

"Okay, then. Apology accepted, but… well, Abs, _I_'_m _not the one you need to say sorry to-"

He'd only stressed one tiny, single word, but Abby had still caught its significance, and its meaning – smiling back at him, but with rising apprehension as Gibbs led her out of her lab towards the elevator.

By the time they reached the bullpen, her comfort-grip on his hand threatened to cut off its circulation – hence the relief both of them felt when they found Tony DiNozzo working quietly at his desk.

For Gibbs too, of course, there was the puzzled surprise over what his senior agent was doing there – a bright smile answering the inevitable question before Gibbs could take another step towards him.

"Hey, boss. Yeah, he's okay. He, um, woke up just after you left. He's okay. I told him you had some, uh, stuff to do, and he went kinda quiet, like he knew what I meant-"

A silvery eyebrow rose. Two green eyes widened. And Tony DiNozzo knew he was in serious trouble.

Realizing that hadn't come out as sensitively as Gibbs would have liked, Tony then winced slightly – hoping a more tactful follow-up would save his long-suffering head from yet another chastising slap.

"He's, uh, okay, though, boss. We, um… you know, talked it all… uh, all over, then he hit the showers. In fact, you just missed him, boss, he's… uh, just gone to get some air. Said you'd know where he'd be if you needed him-"

To his open if rather puzzled relief, the frown on Gibbs's face turned into a broadening smile – an appreciative nod telling him that, for the moment at least, both his head and his hide were still safe.

Even so, Tony still kept tactfully quiet as he watched Gibbs lead Abby on through the bullpen – brotherly instinct urging him to follow them outside, but self preservation convincing him to stay put.

If Gibbs didn't whup his hide, he dryly reflected, he was sure that Abby would freely do so instead. And, as she'd so gladly remind him, at every opportunity, each time he annoyed her, she was a forensic scientist who could kill him and leave _no_ evidence.

Finding a typically ingenious compromise, and once sure they'd left, he crossed to the main window – curiously following their arm-in-arm progress through the yard, towards a secluded spot by the river.

When he finally lost sight of them, Tony then sighed and, smiling slightly, returned to his desk.

He already knew why Gibbs had winced, so sadly, when he'd heard where Tim McGee had gone. Soon, Abby would find out why too, and – yes, God knew she'd need Gibbs with her when she did.

Until they returned inside, to mutually heal, Tony knew he could discreetly finish what _he_ had to do.

As he watched lines of names scroll over his screen, he picked up his phone, and hit speed-dial six. A few moments later, he greeted the voice at the other end with a breeziness he didn't honestly feel.

"Hal? Hey, yeah, it's DiNozzo… yeah, long time no speak, bud, how's Baltimore treating you?"

Rolling his eyes as he listened to a broad, Bronx-edged run-down, he finally found a way into it – taking advantage of Hal Daley's pause for breath while he had those precious few seconds to spare.

"Yeah, Hal, it's… uh, not quite a social call. I need some, uh, help for a case I'm working on-"

Giving Hal time to find a pen, and himself to regain his composure, Tony then took a deep breath – knowing that, just out of his sight, Tim McGee was, for the third time, re-living a day of total hell.

Tony's only consolation, against the bitter fury that he'd felt, was that _he_ knew who'd caused it – hence this covert call to the ex-partner who had a list of contacts the size of a phone directory.

All he needed was a name and a date of birth, and Hal Daley could find _anyone_, _anywhere_.

After some subtly gentle questioning, a silently enraged Tony DiNozzo could now give him both.

"Yeah, I need a full name check, Hal. _Everything_ you have on a Jay Clark, that's C-L-A-R-K. Date of birth six ten nineteen seventy three-"


End file.
